


When I Leave Here Tomorrow

by EmpressVegah



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Bad Decisions, Confessions, Letters, M/M, One-sided Friendship breakup, Possible Mutual Pining, Pro Volleyball Player Oikawa Tooru, Sad Oikawa Tooru, Sports Science Student Iwaizumi Hajime
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-05
Updated: 2021-02-05
Packaged: 2021-03-17 06:54:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29221296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmpressVegah/pseuds/EmpressVegah
Summary: He steals a quick glance at Iwa-chan. Making sure he is still fast asleep, Tooru unzips his backpack and takes out a sheet of stationery: a souvenir writing paper from San Juan.He hopes he can convey the thoughts brewing in his head for months – years, if he is to be honest with himself.Getting himself comfortable at Iwa-chan’s study table, Tooru begins to write.
Relationships: Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru
Comments: 6
Kudos: 63





	When I Leave Here Tomorrow

**Author's Note:**

> Written for ALWY: an IwaOi zine's Love Letter Contest  
> My first IwaOi fic! Please be gentle.  
> I haven't written anything in the last three years, so I'm a bit rusty.  
> Beta-ed by the lovely Briaranise!

Early morning sunlight filters through the gaps between the blinds of Iwa-chan’s window, rousing Tooru from his slumber. Blinking away the remnants of sleep, Tooru’s eyes fall on the man sharing the cramped double bed.

Iwa-chan has always been handsome in Tooru’s eyes. He stares at the relaxed eyebrows, which are always scrunched down in a stern frown. Tooru adores the intimidating look in secret. His eyelids cover his hazel-olive green eyes, expressive in a way that only Tooru can read. His gaze follows down onto Iwa-chan’s pointed nose which he loves to pinch and boop. Not that Iwa-chan doesn’t try to get back at him, but he hopes he can get away with it every single time.

Tooru’s eyes settle on Iwa-chan’s lips, parted as quiet breaths leave his sleeping form. A wave of longing seizes him, strong and encompassing. He has to press his lips together to prevent the gasp escaping from his throat. He squeezes his fists tight on his pillow to stop himself from reaching out and touching Iwa-chan’s handsome face.

The distance of a foot and a half seems like miles between them; Tooru’s heart leaps in his throat. The dryness of his mouth makes it harder to swallow the lump forming there.

Tooru quietly slips out from the thin blanket covering them both. He shivers in the cold morning air, wishing to go back into the warmth of their shared covers. But Tooru is nothing but determined, despite postponing this until his time has run out.

He steals a quick glance at Iwa-chan. Making sure he is still fast asleep, Tooru unzips his backpack and takes out a sheet of stationery: a souvenir writing paper from San Juan.

He hopes he can convey the thoughts brewing in his head for months – years, if he is to be honest with himself.

Getting himself comfortable at Iwa-chan’s study table, Tooru begins to write.

* * *

_23 July 2016_

_Iwaizumi Hajime,_

_Before I start, I want to say I’m sorry. I’m honestly sorry I’m not brave enough to say this to you in person. I know I cannot even finish what I need to tell you if I see your face, so please forgive me for being a coward and writing this letter instead._

_By the time you’re reading this, I will be back in San Juan. We will be on separate continents with different time zones and different seasons. We will be focusing on the things that matter to us. You, with your final year in Sports Science, and me, with my professional volleyball career in CA San Juan. We will both be busier in the coming months, now that I am the starting setter for the team._

_What I mean to say is, Iwa-chan, that I will keep on pursuing volleyball. You and I both know I will never be satisfied. You will be chasing your dreams of becoming an athletic trainer, too. You told me of your plans of doing your Masters there, training under Utsui Takashi-san. But you will be going back to Japan, hoping to work for the national team._

_We dream big, don’t we?_

_I want to let you know that I will not be going back to Japan. I have been offered citizenship here in Argentina to continue playing for them. And I am accepting it._

_Iwa-chan, this is where we truly go our separate ways. I cannot ask you to wait for me. I cannot even promise you a future together when there are more oceans between us than we even know of. We will be living twelve hours apart and I cannot make you waste your years on me, while I work on my own selfish dreams._

_We may not have said it to each other, but I love you, Iwa-chan. Hajime. I love you. I am in love with you. And I cannot bind you to me with just a feeble promise of a maybe, when I cannot guarantee I will be there for you in the coming years. I want you to have someone who will love you and be there for you in every step of the way; to be physically present and to support you in your ups and downs. I cannot be that person for you, Hajime. I am selfish and I want to achieve the heights of my volleyball dreams. I am even selfish now, making all these decisions for the two of us._

_Please adhere to this selfish request of mine. I think it will be good for the two of us to keep our distance for a while. But I hope we can still be friends after this. I treasure you so much, Hajime. This will be good for us, especially for you. I want you to be happy._

_I hope you can forgive me in the future._

_Loving you with all of my heart,_

_Oikawa Tooru_

* * *

During the thirty-five hours of air travel, Tooru’s tears have not stopped falling.

He had held them in on his last day in California with Iwa-chan. He had made sure not to act like his heart is hurting with every second spent together. He had tucked the letter in Iwa-chan’s desk, aware that Iwa-chan will not check his second drawer until he has gone home.

Everything feels heavy, like the life and the meaning of his existence have been drained away from him. It feels like he is drowning, and yet he is alive and breathing.

This must be what it feels like to have your heart broken.

Tooru smiles, wry and dry. He is the one who wanted this for them. He has no actual right to feel this way.

The days carry on, volleyball practice and training exhausting his body to the limit, until he becomes too numb to think of the ache in his chest. He hasn’t heard a peep from Iwa-chan. By some miracle, Iwa-chan has listened to his request this time.

He doesn’t know why that hurts much more.

A Saturday with an early finish from training finds Tooru in his tiny kitchen. He is stirring a pot of traditional stew, the recipe recently taught to him by his lovely elderly neighbour. The winter isn’t as harsh as Miyagi, but four years living in Argentina has Tooru acclimatised. The cold is seeping into his bones.

A sharp, urgent knock jolts Tooru out of his reverie. He quickly turns off the stove to see who might be visiting him at this hour. It’s past five in the late afternoon already.

He calls out in Spanish to wait, washing his hands and hurrying to the door without thought. As he twists the doorknob open, the door is shoved inwards so hard he nearly topples over. Before he can do so much as shout, Tooru is slammed against the wall, his head bouncing hard. He lets out a gasp of pain, raising his hands to defend himself from his assailant. His heart is beating wildly in his chest, anxiety lurching in his stomach.

“You fucking piece of shit, Shittykawa!”

The familiar angry voice startles Tooru into opening his eyes, unaware he has clenched them shut in defence.

“I-Iwa-chan!” he gasps out in surprise as Iwa-chan fists the collar of his shirt and slams him onto the wall again.

“How dare you write that letter and then leave, you fucking coward!” Iwa-chan seethes, his hazel-olive eyes like live wires ready to electrocute him. “How dare you make the decision on what’s best for me, for us, you fucker!” Iwa-chan looks ready to punch him, and Tooru doesn’t know if placating him now will make everything worse.

Tooru thinks, _Ah, I made a mistake._

“How dare you tell me you love me then let me go, Tooru,” Iwa-chan’s voice cracks. He slams his fist next to Tooru’s head, his hazel-olive eyes glistening with unshed tears. Tooru sees their past, present and future all in Iwa-chan’s eyes.

The promise Iwa-chan holds for him.

With a desperate whine, Tooru jerks forward and slides his arms around Iwa-chan’s torso. He pulls his solid, warm body against his. His lips tremble with the guilt and longing rushing through him. His breaths become shaky as he tries to stop the tears from falling.

“I-Iwa-chan! _Hajime_ , I’m sorry. I love you, I’m sorry. Forgive me, Hajime. I love yo—"

Warm lips cut his apologies off, firm and demanding, and who is Tooru to deny what Hajime truly wants?

“I fucking love you too, you shithead,” Hajime whispers into his lips, his large hands holding Tooru’s face in place, thumbs wiping the tears falling down his cheeks. “We’re in this together. You don’t make dramatic decisions and confessions in damn letters without talking to me personally, you fucking hear me?!” His anger is still present, but beyond that Tooru can see the hurt and confusion stemming from Tooru’s selfishness.

“Fuck, just come here, you ugly crier,” Hajime curses, yet pulls a sobbing Tooru into his arms, holding him tight as if never wanting to let him go. Tooru can only cry onto his shoulder as he is enveloped with Hajime’s warmth – a warmth he thought he had lost for good.

They still have a lot to discuss: the confession, what it means for both their futures, but Tooru is assured that this time, things will turn out okay.

Hajime’s expressive eyes have promised him _forever_.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed reading it!


End file.
